


You Make Me So Hot

by roseandheather



Series: Bittersweet And Strange [18]
Category: Inspector Lynley Mysteries (TV)
Genre: F/M, PWP, Porn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/roseandheather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex. Explicit, porny, shameless sex. Lynley walks in on Barbara during an... exposed moment. And proceeds to make her fantasies come true. THIS IS FILTHY PORN YOU GUYS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make Me So Hot

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses for this.
> 
> Oh, wait, yes I do. Barbara made me do it. :D

He walks in the room to find her stark naked on the bed, twisting and thrashing with two fingers inside herself while she frantically thumbs her clit. Her face, neck and shoulders are flushed delectable red and sheened with sweat, and her fingers are wet and glistening with her own juices as she strokes herself furiously.

The sight is so _fucking_ hot he nearly comes in his pants, and it’s only by a supreme act of will that he holds himself together enough to approach the bed. When he speaks his voice is low and hoarse and wrecked. “Are you close, sweetheart?” 

She sees him at last and gasps, sucking in air like she’s drowning. Desperately she nods, eyes wide and wild and damn near panicked. He prowls closer, stalking her. “Are you almost there, _mon coeur?”_ he asks her, all but purring out the words. “Are you thinking of me, of my fingers inside you, my mouth sucking you, stroking you?” And she’s practically sobbing out now, sobbing out for _him,_ and _fuck_ if it isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

He jumps her. He can't wait another instant, he is on fire for her and he cannot hold back.

She bucks unthinkingly against the pressure of his thigh against her, trapping her hand between him and her clit, and she whines into his mouth. She’s so wet there’s a huge damp spot on the thigh of his jeans, and her fingers are slipping everywhere.

Deliberately, he raises her hand and slips a finger into his mouth as his other hand toys with her nipple.

“You’re so wet for me, _ma fille_ ,” he groans around her finger, “my God, Barbara, you’re _soaked_ for me, aren’t you? Soaked and hot and desperate and _mine._ ” She whines again as she grinds herself shamelessly against his denim-covered thigh, searching for friction, for _anything_ that’ll push her over the edge, but she’s trying too hard for it and it _just won’t happen._

Soothingly he pets her rippling abdomen, strokes down the long length of her side, mouths her belly and then drags his lips further down until he can slip his tongue between her thighs and _taste_ her as he suckles at her clit and presses two fingers inside her. And then his tongue slips in alongside his fingers, seeking and curious, and oh hell, he’s so hard his jeans are agonizingly painful, but he’s not the one with tears streaming down his cheeks making desperate noises in the back of his throat, and he makes it a personal goal to see if he can make her climax one on top of the other without a break.

The next thing he knows she _screams_ and clenches so tight around him – he can taste her, he can feel her rippling around his fingers and quiver against his tongue and then her whole body starts to shake violently, and she cries out, a harsh, broken sound, as she seizes around him and under him, and the aftershocks have barely started before he’s ripping his own clothes off and replacing his tongue with his hand, petting through her wetness and extending her climax as long as he can. 

Just seconds later her body seizes again, and with the last traces of her voice, with the last traces of thought, she cries out, “I can’t take it, I can’t, _please..._ ” and he leans down next to her ear and whispers, “Easy, darling, just let it happen.” As she comes down from her second in a row he murmurs, “One more, sweetheart, all right? One more...” and sheaths himself inside her.

She clamps down around him and struggles for it, and he croons, “I’ll get you there, darling.” He strokes once, twice, and as he feels everything in him coil tight and explode, he pants harshly, “Come for me, _ma belle,_ come with me now-“ and cries out as she seizes harder than he’s ever seen her, arching clear off the bed and wrapping her legs around his waist, locking him inside her, and they’re kissing wet and sloppy and desperate as they pant hoarsely into each others’ mouths, gentling each other down from brain-frying ecstasy.

When they finally roll onto their sides and look at each other, they can’t help it. They erupt into hysterical laughter, born as much from ecstasy as from hilarity.

“Oh, Tommy,” she says, “you should have seen the look on your face when I saw you! You looked like you could eat me alive. I didn’t know you were – ow!” and here she wraps an arm around her abdomen as the laughter ripples through overused muscles, “ –actually going to take that phrase literally!”

He uses his thumb to swipe the last remnant of tears from her cheeks and drowns in glowing green eyes. “I’ve never had that before,” he says at last, in wonder. “Never been able to lose control with someone so completely – never known anyone who could make me. I don’t know what possessed me – I was saying things I blush to think about now. When I saw you, so – _debauched,_ I couldn’t help it. Nothing else mattered but having you.” 

“I liked what you were saying – it was, well, sexy. I’d never seen you that – primal. Even when you lost control you tried to be a gentleman in bed. Which is lovely and glorious, but sometimes I just want to be – _ravished.”_ She purrs the last word and rubs herself sinuously against him, and – as they’re both far too wiped out to go another round – he simply relishes the feeling of absolute intimacy. “And for the record, love, you can ‘have me’ any time you please.” 

“Good to know,” he drawls, “as I plan on spending the rest of my life doing just that.”

A blush darkens her cheeks. “Well, that’s all right, then.” And her voice trails off as she nestles herself in the crook of his arm and lets sleep begin to take her.

He looks at her a few moments longer – she _looks_ ravished. Her hair is a wild, uncontrolled mess, and she’s breathing the deep and slow rhythm of a woman absolutely satisfied.

Tenderly, he tucks a strand of strawberry gold hair behind her ear.

“Good night, Barbara Lynne,” he murmurs against her hair, then breathes in the strawberries-and-cream of her shampoo and follows her into sleep.

When he dreams, all his visions are of her.


End file.
